Teya's beginnings
by River's Dream
Summary: A short one shot describing a typical night in the city for Teya, a half-elf rogue.


*Disclaimer I do not own D&D nor anything attributed to it. Teya, however, is mine and I love her very dearly."

"And the Lord and Lady lived happily ever after. The End. Now off to bed the lot of you. What'll your parents be sayin' if I keep ye out any later than I already have?" I smirked good naturedly as the motley group of urchins took their leave for the evening. After all, it's never a smart move to upset the adoring public without a good reason – like boredom.

As the last of the lot cleared out, I stopped and began to take stalk of my evening. I had managed to collect a few coins through my honest night's work, though some coins may have been more honestly earned than others. All in all, a decent night's business, besides it's not like I was desperate for money. The travelling industry had recently picked up and many families were willing to pay good coin for a guide who could get them to their destinations alive. Thank the stars Da taught me something before he bolted. Besides, tonight was about having fun, attempting to enjoy the city, and perhaps, if I was lucky, scrounging up some mischief. Life's been a wee bit too boring of late.

Seeing another crowd begin to gather, hoping for another story to begin, I began to weigh the pros and cons of lengthening my stay. Out of nowhere, my nostrils began to flare in protest and I surreptitiously started scanning the surrounding crowd.

Now don't get me wrong, the city's a great place to visit, the excitement, the people, the opportunities of varying natures and legalities. However, I was still raised in the country and love my wide open spaces and quiet solitude. If I'm in the mood, you would never know I was there. I learned how to disappear into the background as a child and it's a trait I make sure to keep sharp in. But there's the rub, it's all in my mood. I'm not exactly what you'd call a girl with roots, I'm more of a "where the wind takes me kind of girl" and at the moment I wish the wind would take me or that stench somewhere else.

Ugh, some days, I hate being a half-elf. My father's gifts of Elfin senses mean that, unlike the rest of the crowd, I can smell whatever walking tavern happens to be headed in our general direction.

I had barely lifted my head when I spotted the object of my disgust: large, ugly, garishly wealthy, and drunk to the point I wondered if it was possible for him to sober before the next new moon.

It was his next words though, yelled from the down the street, which made me contemplate utilizing one or more of the many subtle, silent, or humiliating methods or retribution life had taught me.

"Eh, Mongrel. Yeah you, half breed. I've got a story I want to hear and I'd pay a day's wages to hear it." The drunk looked ready to stagger and one or two of the remaining children looked terrified he'd fall on them and crush their very souls to the other side.

Mmm, truly it would be a shame to take advantage of this obviously disadvantaged man now. A good, law-abiding citizen would help this nobleman in his obvious distress. Too bad none are around.

"Your day's wages or a day of my own?" I responded with a calculated smirk.

"I'd pay a day of my own wages to know how a little half breed like yourself ends up on the streets of our fine city, metal growing out of her arms, prancing around like she owns the place instead of grovelling in the dirt where you deserve.

Oh goody, another biased pig. What is with these jokers? Like I can't figure out on my own I don't match either race, pointy ears don't lower my intelligence. They're the ones nearly falling down thanks to their own "intelligence" and I'm the one who belongs in the dirt. Suddenly an idea came to mind.

"Money, in me hand first, we dirt crawlers, like to have our payment first, ye know" and boy did I know. Normally, I wouldn't give a "man" like this the time of day. However, being the kind hearted women I am; I figure I should help the drunken sod. I mean, if he has too much money on him he could be a target for thieves. By taking his money I was really just doing a public service, being a caring, concerned citizen, everyone wins.

Pocketing his money, I settled myself down, while the crowd drew nearer, and with a flourish of my hands I spoke

"My story begins in a far off land, many years ago. A young elf having just reached his age of maturity found himself stricken by a plague as ancient as the stars, wanderlust. Packing up his belongings, my father left his people and the home they had created in Arcona, setting off to explore the world and find his peace. He travelled alone for many years, learning the ways of the road, trading his way through the various towns and cities, gathering knowledge and friends as he went. One day, while travelling in Erova, he stopped to procure supplies for the next leg of his journey and a warm meal at the local tavern. There he met a young maiden fair of face, with a mischievousness that rivalled his countrymen's, the Elf was smitten. The two were married within the month and the Elf gave up his life of travels to settle in the forests of Erova."

"Two years after the lovestruck couple were married, the addition of a baby girl brought their family's numbers to three. Sadly, the pregnancy was difficult on the new mother, to the point where healer's feared her life would be demanded for the child's survival. However, to the father's joy mother and daughter survived, though they were informed their family would not see the blessing of another child due to the mother's injuries. The news, though grievous, merely drove the new parents to pour all of their love and knowledge into the daughter they were given."

"The girl, grew, and her early years were filled with laughter and learning. Her mother lived to teach her the ways of womanhood" I couldn't help but stick my tongue out here; I mean I loved me mom but sitting around during such tasks drove me crazy. "The little child learned to read and write her parent's tongues of Elvish and Commonspeak, mend clothes, cook, clean, and act like a little lady. Her Da on the other hand encouraged her inner scoundrel. Days with her Da meant playing among the trees, learning the land's secrets, surviving by wit and what the earth offers, sharpening her Elvish heritage, and learning both the secrets of her father's people and his old travelling friends as they journeyed through the area. As far as the three were concerned, life was an idyllic dream but dreams are meant to end and all must wake eventually."

"In the girl's eighth summer, their lives changed forever. Much to his dismay, the family's protector found them in need of supplies, a four day journey round trip. So early one morning he set out kissing his girls and filling their heads with promises of treats and presents upon his return. That night, the mother grew violently ill. Too young to get to the next town, the young girl attempted to nurse her ailing mother but it was all for naught. The father returned three days later just in time to hold his young bride as she breathed her last. In silent grief, father and daughter buried their beloved under the willow by moonlight."

The crowd around me leaned in close as they could, hanging on to the tragedy of the young family. This story is so much easier to tell in third person. Ah well coin to earn, I should keep going.

"They say some people run from their problems and the grief-struck father was no exception. Within a week, father and daughter had packed their lives into a wagon and began a new life, devoid of their loved one's presence on the road, guiding travellers regardless of race or destination."

"At first, the lifestyle thrilled the young girl. Her father required each client to impart some skill to the growing child as part of their payment. As a result she became fluent in Gnomish, Dwarvish, and Halfling, speaking and writing all with ease. Matrons gave further instruction on her mother's teachings, men taught to fight with using her size and flexibility to her benefit rather than determinant. The best lessons were from the rogues and her father."

"Over the years the duo met many rogues who joined them for a stretch and took a liking to the slight, mischievous child. She would spend hours practicing the slights of hand, the turns of phrase, and stealthy tricks they imparted. These skills became particularly handy when the duo picked up clients in hard times who were less accepting of the growing girl's mixed heritage. During such trips she would find herself hiding amongst the shadows, riding the tops of the wagons, and misplacing travellers' possessions as she hid from their prejudiced words and fists." At these words I spotted a small group of half-elfs listening in on a neighbouring roof and nodding in full agreement, remembering their own mistreatments perhaps? Maybe I could catch them afterwards and talk. It's been so long since I've spoken with my own blood. Even solitary creatures need company some days.

"The girl's favourite lessons, by far though, were with her father. Whenever they had time he would take her into the wood and teach her of her fighting ancestors, training her in the weapons of her clan." I couldn't help but look down at the blades attached to my forearms, they glinted in the firelight and as promised had become extension of my flesh. Taking them off, at times, felt like losing a limb.

"The girl's father realised that the life he had chosen for her would be fraught with danger and though he had taught her to survive, he wanted her to be able to take an offensive if necessary. Realising her gender and stature put her at a disadvantage, he tailored their lessons so that she learned to use agility, dexterity, and cunning rather than brute strength, though with equal potential for harm. On her thirteenth birthday he gave her the blades of her great-grandmother, a bridal present handcrafted by her groom, a master in his art, and presented on the day of their union. Her clan was well-known for their ability to wield the double blades they invented with a grace and finesse that made their battles appear a fierce dance." I paused wistfully wishing I could have seen my grandmother fighting alongside her clan wearing these very blades at the height of her ability, wishes are for those who can afford them though, and I certainly cannot.

"The girl proved a adept study and quickly began to rise in her ability, taking joy in weaving through her exercises late at night when their caravan rested, blades flying through in the moonlight as she too learned her ancestor's dance. The feeling of the blades was magical, the growing strength as she mastered the ability of both hands was useful" I rolled my eyes as the gathered drunks laughed suggestively "but her greatest joy came from the time with her beloved Da, just the two of them for hours on end."

"They continued in this lifestyle for many years, until the small seven year old child was a young woman of 18. Life had been hard; as the girl became more aware of the world around her she became hardened to those she encountered, a hazard of a childhood on foot. They had been travelling through Esteron for the better part of a year and though she had many adventures, as growing girls are apt to do, and which I may be back to share tomorrow for more coin" There were some definite groans at this declaration, maybe I could milk out some more coin before moving on. "the girl grew distressed as her father became more and more closed off. Finally, on her eighteenth birthday her world crashed."

"Her beloved father was tired of life on the road, and missed his elven clan. Within the week he would be packing up and returning to Arcona. The girl free to follow if she pleased, though fully aware she would never be accepted by his family with her tainted blood. So a week after her birthday, standing with a backpack full of supplies and a chest full of belongings she waved her beloved Da goodbye."

"Her life the next few years became a blur as she processed the life she found herself in possession of. She used the skills her father and his clients had imparted to live from day to day, no ties to the world, going where she pleased. Some days she was a guide, others a maiden at play, and other sometimes a storyteller on the corner. Everyday cursed with the same desire that drove her father from his family so many years before, a quest for a peace of soul that may not be reachable."

"And that's how a half-breed ends up on the corner" I ended with a flourish. Nodding appreciatively, with scattered clappings, my audience began to break, a few dropping coins in my cup as they passed. When they had mostly cleared, I noticed the drunkard who had begun this latest journey passed out where he had fallen, as expected. Nimbly making my way over I covertly helped myself to the rest of his coin, replacing the empty purse and knowing the man would blame the loss on alcohol he no longer remembered purchasing or consuming. Well, I did say thieves could be a risk, takes one to know one I guess. He should consider himself lucky. The last prejudice pig that passed out during a story found his clothes missing as well as his purse.

Now what to do with the rest of my evening? What was that in the shadows? Could it be? My, my, it is my old friend, and looking far more the masculine nobleman than last time. I did say I wanted an adventure. I wonder where he's headed?

Packing up my now quite full purse, I silently began to follow my old acquaintance, hoping that maybe he could liven up my grey existence for a time.

A.N. This was a story I wrote involving my first ever character. I've been toying with the idea of writing stories based on her of late and thought I'd post to see if I could find any feedback.


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